The Gift
by Channel D
Summary: Someone has sent a hand-crafted, smiling, sunflower to Tim. Is it really a thank-you gift, or something more sinister? Three people have already died. Drama/case file. Multi-chapter story.
1. Sunflower

**There it Sat**

****

by channelD

_inspired by:_ the NFA _There It Sat…_ challenge. The aim of the challenge is to start a story with the phrase, "There it sat..."  
_rating:_ Kplus  
_genre: _drama  
_characters:_ Tim & the team

- - - - -

_disclaimer_: I continue to own nothing of NCIS.

- - - - -

**Chapter 1: Sunflower**

There it sat, the little yellow cloth flower in a flowerpot, resembling a sunflower with a smiley face. It wasn't as kitschy as the description sounded. The flower was hand-painted, maybe even hand-sewn, and painstakingly detailed. The face seemed to have a gentle, tentative, _won't-you-be-my-friend?_ look, which wasn't really off-putting. The leaves and stalk were firm and yet supple; the stalk of a nubby textured fabric. The flowerpot was a real clay pot, although the "soil" in it was some sort of fabric-plastic heap. _Not all that bad,_ Tim thought.

"That thing is as ugly as sin," Tony said, scowling, as he stopped by Tim's desk.

"I think it is rather sweet," said Ziva, and Tim smiled, grateful for her support.

"Though hardly what I expect a _man_ to have on his desk," she added with a saucy smile, and Tim sighed.

"I'll give it to my grandmother," Tim retorted stoutly. "It's folk art. She collects this stuff. Particularly stuff that looks like it's from the Plains states."

"Has she had her vision checked lately?" Tony cracked, and accepted the headslap Gibbs gave him in passing.

"Go to coffee break on time, DiNozzo, or don't go at all," Gibbs added. He did a double-take on seeing the flower. "What…is that, McGee?"

"It's a sunflower, boss."

"I can see _that._ What's it doing here? Did you need new tchotchkes for your desk?"

Tim reddened. "I didn't buy it, boss. A client sent it to me. Remember the Barkins family? That case with the murders confined to the family?"

"Yep. The all-Navy bunch. Uncle Jim did in cousins Betty and Lon and Uncle Randy."

"That's the one. Aunt Peg, who makes a living making these…things, liked me, you know."

"I never pictured you as one for a May-December relationship, Probie," Tony said, with what was almost a sympathetic look. "She must be three times your age."

Tim ignored him. "I took time to help her remember clues, and helped keep her calm through the ordeal of finding the guilty family member. She reminds me a bit of my grandmother. I was just being nice to an older person; that's all." A thought hit him. "Uh, boss, I have to report this as a gift and I can't keep it, right? I just remembered that reg."

Gibbs eyed the eight-inch-tall decoration. "It's under the gifts limit in value. I…don't think your coworkers really want to share in it, so you can have it. But you might want to take it home in case…I'm…wrong and everyone else decides…they do want one."

Tim didn't really feel right about glaring at the boss, so the face he made was more like a nauseated squint. "Am I too late to take a break?"

Gibbs sighed, "Oh, get out of here…", and ignored the fact that Tony slipped out behind Tim.

Tim had to endure gibes from his coworkers all day on the smiling sunflower. The Director chuckled on seeing it and then sobered; Ducky coughed back a laugh, and Abby—Abby was worst of all. Worse than Tony, even. She burst out laughing when she saw it, "I'm…sorry…Tim," she struggled to say. "Our tastes must be really different. As in, colossally out-of-this-_world _different. I know you like that thing, but I think it's the ugliest thing I've ever laid eyes on!" She bent over to hug him and show that he shouldn't take it personally.

Tim was a little irked by this. "It was made with _love_, Abby. I'm sorry you can't understand that."

"Love is blind," Abby snickered, and started laughing all over again.

"If you don't have work to do, Abby, I'll find you some," Gibbs said levely.

"I do, Gibbs, and I'm going. If I stay up here any longer, I'll hurt myself laughing!" She stopped to give Tim a kiss on top of his head. He wasn't mollified. But the sunflower, born with a cheerful soul, didn't seem to mind Abby's laughter at all.

The sunflower sat the rest of the day front and center on Tim's desk. He could have put it in the box it had come in, but he eventually admitted to himself that he liked looking at it. He could picture Aunt Peg stitching it, for he had watched her work on another project during the case. She wasn't really three times his age, as Tony had said, but rather a fit 70, content to let her blonde hair go mostly grey. Her hands were still nimble, and she could cut out shapes, wield a sewing needle and a glue gun, embroider, press, and shape faster than a teenager. She would have four or five projects going at once, and a stack of sketches on graph paper for future projects. "Idle hands," she would murmur, and shake her head, eyeing a young granddaughter sprawled on a sofa with her ipod on.

" 'Are the devil's playground?'" Tim had finished the quote.

"What? No, no; no devils around here. Idle hands help the brain atrophy. That's all. I was a research chemist before I retired, Tim, did you know that? Of course you did; you NCIS people know everything about this family now. I started cutting things out with my Rosie when she was small. She lost interest after awhile, but I kept doing it. It was a nice hobby to come home to after a day at the lab. I got better at it, and now I make a modest income from it."

She was such a nice lady. Tim was already composing a thank-you note in his mind. He wanted it to sound just right.

For awhile, Tim kept the side with the smilie face turned outward, so people passing by could see it. Then he started to accept the fact that no one seemed to appreciate it like he did, so he turned the face to face him, leaving the rough brown seed-like back of the sunflower head facing out. And still the sunflower smiled.

A case came up, and the team went out. In the field, the sunflower was forgotten. After a chase through muddy woods, suspects were apprehended, a hostage was freed, and they were all back at NCIS by the normal end of the work day.

Tim, Tony and Gibbs hit the men's showers to rinse off the mud. "Hey," said Tony. "Ziva and Abby and I, and a couple guys from Intel, who aren't as geeky as you'd think, are hitting Mulligan's for a drink after work. You guys coming?"

Gibbs only rolled his eyes and smiled a regret. He'd spend the evening with his boat, they knew. "Nah, I want to work on the Filburt case a little longer," said Tim.

"If you're going to stay late, you should be working on your report for the case we just had today," said Gibbs.

"I will, boss. First thing in the morning. But I just got an idea on the Filburt case, and I want to explore it before I forget where it's leading me."

Gibbs raised one eyebrow. "All right, McGee. Don't stay too late, though."

Back in the squad room, as the day shift left and the much smaller night shift came on, Tim settled back down at his desk with a cold can of Diet Coke. The sunflower smiled its same, static smile at him. The smile warmed his heart.

By 8 o'clock, Tim couldn't keep his head up any longer, and rested it on his arms on his keyboard. His heavy arms. A place for his heavy head.

The difference now was the subtle change in the air, as the invisible gas seeped out of the sunflower, which it had started to do half an hour ago. The smiling sunflower had plenty of poisonous gas left to disperse.


	2. Poisonous Gas

**Chapter 2: Poisonous Gas**

- - - - -

Gibbs made his way through the clumps of emergency vehicles and rescue personnel; the dozens of flashing red lights illuminating the Navy Yard like so much battlefield shelling. It was a chilling war comparison that he wished his mind hadn't made. So many times now, he'd had to stop and show his badge to so many well-meaning police and military police that he now kept it in his hand.

He spotted Jenny standing on the sidewalk in front of the NCIS building. "I got here as fast as I could…"

"Six casualties so far," she said, struggling not to choke as yet another gurney came out of the building with a carefully-tended victim. "No deaths. But they're still looking for people."

"We don't know how many were on duty in the building? Or rather, in the building?"

She shook her head, blinking away tears. "The worst cases are from the second floor. Near the squad room."

"Well, that's where you'd expect the most people to be, at this time of night," Gibbs said mildly. He brushed some sawdust off his old NIS t-shirt. When Jenny had called him, he'd come at a run, not taking time to change clothes. "Is there any idea what's caused this? Radon gas, maybe?" They watched as more emergency workers in gas masks brought another gurney out.

"That hasn't been determined yet, but yes, gas of some sort is suspected. I don't know what else it could be besides radon or carbon monoxide."

"Hey, boss! Director!" Tony ran up to them, Ziva half a step behind.

"How did you two hear about this?" Gibbs asked, eyebrows stalked.

"It's all over the news. You get this many emergency vehicles in one place and someone's going to report it. They're only saying, 'Emergency in the Navy Yard', but we figured it likely involved NCIS, so…"

"I drove by Tony's place and picked him up," said Ziva. "Gibbs, we should help the rescue personnel. They would not know where people are likely to be in the building. We do."

Gibbs nodded. "Go grab three gas masks from our supply room in building #200."

Tony hesitated. "One more thing, boss…I haven't been able to reach McGee by phone. It's 10 now; do you know how late he was going to be staying at NCIS?"

Gibbs paled. After only a moment, Tony and Ziva were running to get the gas masks.

- - - - -

It took a little fight to get the fire chief to let them in the building, gas masks or not. "Good, at least you've got your skin covered," said the chief.

"Do you know what the gas is?" asked Gibbs.

"Not yet. Nothing visible. Most of my people reported not being able to smell it; one or two thought they smelled something but couldn't identify it. Nonetheless, keep your skin covered, be prepared to go through your decontam procedures when you're done, and for heaven's sake, don't touch anything without gloves on. And be careful."

The squad room buzzed with activity. Some NCIS workers were merely groggy and could leave under their own power with just a steadying hand; others went out on gurneys.

"Do we know where the gas is concentrated?" Tony asked their escort, the deputy fire chief.

"That corner, according to our air quality readings," she pointed. It was Gibbs' team's area.

Ziva pocketed her cell phone. "Gibbs, McGee's name is still not on the list of casualties."

"Have you tried his phone again?"

She rang him, and a second later, they heard a familiar ringtone._ "Crap!"_ Tony said, and roughly brushed aside emergency workers to get to their area. He was the first one to reach Tim, who had fallen to the floor at his desk in a manner as to not be visible unless you walked around to the back of the desk.

"He's breathing!" Tony said in relief while Ziva yelled for a gurney. "Whew! Kissing McGeek was not high on the list of things I wanted to do today."

"What's different around here?" Gibbs said to his team. "Do you see anything new that could have introduced gas?"

"Other than that stupid sunflower, which introduced nausea to me the moment I laid eyes on it?" Tony grimaced.

"That could be it! The sunflower!" Ziva cried. "I will look around, though, to see if anything else is unusual."

"Where's the box it came in?" Tony said suddenly. "Last I knew, it was still on the floor by McGee's desk."

"Cleaning people may have picked it up when they came through around 8," said Gibbs. "I'll go look for it. What did it look like?"

"Uh, just a box, boss. You know…"

Gibbs purpled. "That 'just a box' may cost a number of people their lives! Do better, DiNozzo!!"

"Okay, sure. The sunflower is about 8 inches tall…it was well-padded in the box for shipping, so I think the box was about 12 inches square. Brown, corrugated cardboard."

"Return address?"

"I didn't get that good a look at it." Tony watched sadly as the EMTs worked on Tim. He'd been breathing oxygen for over two minutes, but still showed no signs of regaining consciousness. "McGee said it was from Aunt Peg Barkins."

"Was there a note?"

"I—don't know." Tony reddened, feeling a little guilty for not having paid more attention to McGee and the ugly gift.

Gibbs signaled to the deputy fire chief, and quickly had a solid container to hold the sunflower.

"We've swept the building twice, Agent Gibbs," the deputy added. "We're sure everyone's out. Fifteen people had been in the building; most were conscious when we found them, but all are going to GW Hospital as a precaution. Now, you people need to get to Decontam."

He started to argue with her, but realized she was right. "And no, you can't use the facilities in this building. Go elsewhere," she said firmly.

"Go shower and change at building #200," Gibbs ordered Tony and Ziva. "There will be NCIS sweats there that you can wear. Then go pick up Aunt Peg and bring her in for questioning."

"Uh…to where, boss?"

Gibbs eyed the deputy. "How long before we get our building back?"

"Depends on what the gas is. We don't know how to clean it until we can identify it."

He sighed, and pulled out his phone to call Abby. He waved to Tony and Ziva to go.

"Agent Gibbs, you have to leave now, too," said the deputy.

"Not until I can go through the picked-up trash," he said. "This is a crime scene, and that shipping box is evidence."

- - - - -

In about an hour's time, Gibbs met Abby at NCIS' supplemental building, known simply by its Navy Yard designation of "#200" (the main building being #111). It served as overflow, with a few teams operating out of there. There were showers, to be sure, and even a small lab (usually used for investigative training for agents).

Abby didn't apologize for her wearing of a (non-traditional, for her) glittering Bambi (the Disney version) t-shirt, given the hour of her summons. She wrinkled her nose at the rudimentary lab. "I guess I should be glad that this place has _electricity_," she said.

"_Abby_…"

"All right, all right. Yes, I should be able to determine what the gas is, and whether it came from McGee's _objet d'art_, even with Mr. Wizard's 1950s science lab here. Did you happen to grab a hazmat suit from HQ?"

"Nope. But I got you one from the Marine compound. Try to keep it clean."

"You got it, Gibbs-san." She twisted a knob gently. "Gibbs…how is McGee?"

"As of about 15 minutes ago, they were still working on him in the ER, the Director told me. He was still unconscious." He drew her into a hug. "He's made of tough stuff, Abby. I'm sure he'll be fine."

"But nobody's with him?" Abby sniffed.

"Jenny's there. She's there for him and all of our other people who were taken to the hospital. She'll call me when there's news."

Abby wiped her eyes. "So then, I've gotta get busy and identify this gas."

"The sooner the better."

- - - - -

Abby called Gibbs just half an hour later, and he in turn called Jenny. "Abby says it's a CG-like gas."

"Phosgene!" Jenny had been standing in the hospital waiting room; now she sat down hard. "That's classified as a WMD! No one even uses phosgene as a weapon anymore. It's horrible."

"They stopped using it because nastier stuff was invented. But anyway, someone did here and now. And it definitely seeped out of McGee's sunflower. Abby is now tearing apart the thing, and the box it came in."

"Good grief. So what does this mean for us?"

"First, I'll give you the chemical formula Abby gave me. You'll need to relay the news to the doctors. Have them call the Center for Disease Control for treating instructions. Abby's guess is that since the gas is close enough to CG, the results and treatment should be the same. It's…hoped that it's not going to be lethal, but still, it may prove uncomfortable for the affected people."

"Well, that's something, anyway. The hospital's holding everyone, no matter how small the exposure, until they know what they're dealing with. What about our building?"

Gibbs put a hand on his aching back. It had been too long a day. "Ammonia. Just as with standard CG, ammonia broke down this gas rapidly in Abby's tests. That's what we'll need as a disinfectant. This is Wednesday night…my guess is we'll be able to get back to work in the building on Monday, maybe. Or Tuesday."

"I'll call in the decontam pros." Again Jenny felt a bit numb. "We can't fit everyone inside #200. It isn't even a quarter the size of #111! If I have to deal with the decontam people and the SECNAV, _you_ can figure out who reports to work in #200 and who stays home tomorrow."

He groaned. "How much free space do we have in #200? That determines how many more people we can fit in there."

"I see it the other way. How many people do we need to keep the agency running? I don't care if we have people sitting in each other's laps."

"Well, I do. We do want to get some work out of them. The weather will be nice, so if necessary, we'll put some people in the park. Do you have a telephone tree available? Mine is at home."

"So is mine, sorry. Don't worry about calling people late at night; it can't be helped. Tell me who you're bringing in to #200, and I'll have my automatic dialer call the rest."

Gibbs settled on bringing in two additional teams—his own, plus one other—for the day shift, and two for the night shift. Building #200 never had anything going on at night, but NCIS needed 24 hour coverage…and that might mean sending a team out to the field while another stayed behind to answer the phones.

This could be a rough couple of days, and they hadn't even questioned suspects.

All this because of a dangerous sunflower.


	3. Interrogation

**Chapter 3: Interrogation**

- - - - -

The stylishly-dressed woman rushed up to him, the moment she saw him. "Oh! Agent Gibbs! I'm so glad to see you here! Please tell your agents that they have made a silly mistake."

Gibbs looked Peg Barkins up and down. She was mildly askew, which seemed about right for someone hauled out of bed to come down to the Navy Yard; her long hair tried to escape its snood, and one leg of her Capri pants rode up a bit. "Sorry for the late hour, Ms. Barkins," he said with no real warmth, "but we do need to ask you some questions."

Building #200 did not have interrogation rooms. Gibbs had Tony set up a camera on a stand in a small conference room, and Gibbs interviewed Aunt Peg there, while Tony and Ziva sat quietly in the back.

"Do you understand why you're here, Ms. Barkins?" Gibbs began. He did not spend much time reading her face before speaking,

She frowned. "Your agents tell me it was something to do with a sunflower."

"Did you send a gift, a sunflower…doodad…to Agent Timothy McGee?"

"Now why would I do that?"

"You seemed to get along well with him during the investigation into the murders in your family."

"He was a personable young man. But really, Agent Gibbs. The matter was over and done with three months ago. Had I wanted to send a thank-you, I would have done that long before this."

Gibbs showed her a picture Abby had taken of the sunflower before she'd taken it apart. "Do you recognize this?"

"Well…it bears a stylistic resemblance to some of my work, but I didn't make it."

"Your fingerprints are on file, Ms. Barkins, because of the investigation. Your prints were found all over the sunflower."

She looked perplexed for a moment. "Agent Gibbs, I have several projects underway at any one time. I'll get partway through one, and then stop because I want to think where to go with it next. It's…possible that someone picked up pieces of a project I'd started. But I don't understand: what would be the harm in sending someone a gift? Not that I'm saying I did, because I didn't."

"The harm, Ms. Barkins, comes when the sender loads the gift with deadly gas, in an attempt to murder."

"What?? You can't think that I would ever—"

"You're a retired research chemist, Ms. Barkins. What did you have access to?"

She looked thoughtful. When she spoke, it was slowly, for she was apparently thinking as she talked. "I am retired, Agent Gibbs. As of age 65. I have no access to anything now."

He raised an eyebrow slightly. "That wasn't what I asked."

"I had access to all sorts of things when I worked. I was a chemist for 40 years. Surely you can't expect me to remember them all."

"Any poisonous gases?"

"So many gases are poisonous, when the conditions are right. I worked for the DOD. I am still bound under confidentiality and top-secret-clearance rules." Her look was not at all friendly. "Now I have had quite enough. I insist that you let me go at once. I must look my best in the morning; I have a church circle meeting to host."

"The circle will have to find a different host," Gibbs said in faint apology. "David, take Ms. Barkins into custody."

- - - - -

"McGee? Tim? How do you feel?"

Tim raised his heavy eyelids and blinked in the direction of a gray suit. _Gibbs_. No, wait; Gibbs didn't have red hair. Tim blinked again and the gray suit shrank a bit and solidified into the shape of the Director. "Okay, I guess, ma'am."

"Well, you just rest," she said with a smile. "You've had an ordeal."

He sat up. He was in a hospital bed, but with no tubes or IVs attached. "Actually, I think I feel okay. I remember feeling sleepy at NCIS—what happened?"

Jenny explained, and carefully watched his expression of horror grow. She ended with, "Just how well did you get to know Peg Barkins, Tim? Do you think she'd be capable of murder? And murder like this?

"No, I would _never_ have suspected…they say that everyone's _capable_ of murder, but I've never believed that. I can name a dozen people who could never, ever commit murder…"

"I suppose I'm more cynical than you, then, Tim. Anyway, Peg Barkins. Gibbs had her brought in for questioning a little while ago, and found her answers evasive and suspicious. She's being held."

He looked confused. "Well, I guess Gibbs knows what he's doing, but…that doesn't sound like something Aunt Peg could do. It really doesn't."

"The team will be questioning other family members later today." At Tim's startled look, she added, "It's 1 a.m., Tim. I was just waiting around for you to wake up."

"I should go home," Tim said with a small moan. "I don't sleep well in hospitals."

"Well, discharge is for your doctor to decide. Try to sleep now, and see what he says in the morning." Jenny didn't want to say what the doctor had told her; that the symptoms of phosgene exposure could be delayed for hours.

She wished him goodnight and left as a nurse came in. Soon Tim was trying to drift off, trying to imagine who the real culprit behind the menacing sunflower was.

- - - - -

"Why are you holding my mother??" The speaker, escorted to Gibbs' makeshift desk in building #200 by a security guard, was a petite woman, appearing to hold more fury than a woman twice her size. It was barely 7 a.m., and Gibbs, Ziva and Tony had just returned to the Yard after only a few hours of sleep.

"And you are…?" Gibbs asked, calmly.

"Rose Barkins Donovan. Peg Barkins' daughter. And this is my husband, Attorney Bradley Donovan. You didn't talk to us in person, only on the phone, in that horrid mess with Uncle Jim. We were living in New Hampshire. We only just moved back to Maryland a few weeks ago."

Gibbs could have remarked that he had never met anyone with 'Attorney' for a first name, but ignored the temptation. "Your mother is a person of interest in a criminal investigation."

"You're saying she's a suspect?" asked Attorney Donovan.

"Yes."

"What grounds do you have for holding a 70-year-old woman??"

Gibbs straightened up. "I wasn't aware that either age or gender had anything to do with the capacity to attempt murder, Mr. Donovan."

The couple looked shocked to their cores. "My—my mother can't even kill a wasp in her house," Rose said, hand over her heart. "She'll catch it in a paper towel and set it free outside. She brought me up to have a great respect for all living things. What is she supposed to have done?"

Tony brought over chairs for the Donovans, and then he and Ziva worked with half an ear on the conversation at Gibbs' desk. Gibbs explained what had happened last night, watching the Donovans' expressions while he spoke. "Would your mother have any reason to want to harm NCIS personnel?"

Rose still looked stunned, so Bradley spoke. "Peg wouldn't have had a reason. We all talked about the case, of course, and I remember Peg saying how fair and kind you all were toward her and the rest of the family."

"Yet this deadly…_gift_ was sent to one of my men. He and several other people here could have died."

"But can you prove that Peg sent it? I doubt you can."

"We're trying to uncover all the facts."

"Can we see my mother, Agent Gibbs?"

"Of course. DiNozzo, would you escort the Donovans?"

"Sure, boss. This way, folks."

- - - - -

Tim woke to milky sunlight coming in the window. He remembered his earlier awakening in the hospital room, and felt the usual discomfort at being in a hospital for seemingly-minor injuries. He remembered telling the Director that he felt fine.

But now he didn't feel so fine. His skin itched. His throat was…how to describe it? Dry, maybe. Swollen? Irritated? And it seemed hard to catch his breath, as if he'd been running a race. _How did I go downhill overnight…?_ To get some reassurance that his health hadn't mysteriously worsened, he pushed his call button, and soon a nurse came in.

The nurse raised his eyebrows. "I'll call for the doctor," he said.

In minutes the doctor was there, and checked him over. "I did mention some of this to you when you first woke, Agent McGee, but you may not have absorbed it. Phosgene poisoning often takes hours to show effects. And that's what's happening to you now. Lesions on your exposed skin, and some even on skin that wasn't exposed; and irritation of your lungs. I'll want to do some tests to see how extensive it is."

"How bad can it be? Worst-case scenario?"

She frowned. "You could develop frostbite. Phosgene is corrosive, and it could cause edemas in your lungs, which could lead to their filling with fluids and a resulting heart insufficiency."

Tim winced, but had to ask. "Could it kill me?"

"…It's…_possible_, though pretty unlikely."

"But I thought this wasn't phosgene; just something like it."

"That's true. And unless your people can find out exactly what the effects are, we can only treat the symptoms as they pop up."

"So I could still die, because no one knows anything about this gas."

"No, at least one person knows about it, Agent McGee. The person who sent you the sunflower. When your people find them, and get them to talk, then we'll be better able to treat you."

- - - - -

Abby was disgruntled at having had to go home to sleep, and then come back in to work. The emergency workers had refused to allow her to retrieve her futon from her lab at HQ, so she had nothing to sleep on. When she showed up at 8 a.m., she made sure that Gibbs saw that she was carrying a sleeping bag. He didn't comment, but she didn't expect him to. "What am I looking for now, Gibbs?"

"Depends. Where did you leave off last night?"

"You mean, six hours ago? I was pulling fingerprints off the stupid sunflower and the box it rode in on."

"There you go…Gibbs," he said, answering his desk phone and turning away from her. She left, nearly dropping her _Caf-Pow!_ as the load of things she carried shifted.

"Agent Gibbs. You're holding Peg Barkins?" The voice was muffled, and one of those mid-range voices that could be either male or female.

"Yes. Who is this?"

"Well, for Pete's sake, don't let her out. _She'll kill us all!"_ The caller hung up.


	4. Phosgene

**Chapter 4: Phosgene**

- - - - -

Ziva and Tony arrived at NCIS minutes later, and Gibbs told them about the mysterious phone call. "I take it you're not going to release Aunt Peg?" asked Tony.

Gibbs gave him a wry smile. "We have probable cause. That's enough to hold her on."

"But what is her motive?" asked Ziva. "As McGee said, she seemed like a nice old lady. Why would she want to kill NCIS agents?"

"And without making much attempt to hide her tracks," added Tony.

"I don't know," said Gibbs, and took a gulp of coffee. "Try to figure that out. Talk to more of the family. Chances are, some of them are going to become very hostile very quickly once they learn that Aunt Peg is being held."

"But the one who called you will be overjoyed," Ziva pointed out.

Gibbs watched as his two agents started working the phones. He himself called up the Barkins case file and reread it in entirety. Right from the beginning, it seemed that the murders might have been done by a family member. There was just so much bitterness between a couple strong, identifiable factions in the family. When the fingers started to point to Uncle Jim, it didn't take long for a case to be built and an eventual conviction to be made.

Had there been more to it than that? Gibbs wanted to mull it over, to read the testimonies between the lines. But he could see that Ziva and Tony were sagging; the late night having taken its toll. First Tony nodded off at his desk, and then Ziva did the same. Normally Gibbs wouldn't let them do that, but it was either that or send them home…and they were needed here.

Jenny wasn't in yet. She must have been very late at the hospital. He quietly phoned the hospital, and got Tim's room. "Are you up for visitors, McGee?"

"_I guess so, boss,"_ Tim rasped. _"I'm feeling tired, but if you do come, just wake me."_

He didn't sound good, and Gibbs worried. He got the doctor's voicemail and left a message for her to call him.

When the doctor did call, an hour later, her news was not exactly encouraging. Like the two other agents remaining in the hospital, Tim had developed skin lesions and lung edemas, though his were more pronounced. It was hoped that all would clear up shortly, although they just didn't know.

- - - - -

Peg Barkins was transferred, without incident, to the women's lock-up in mid-morning. When Jenny arrived at building #200 around noon, she reported that Aunt Peg was already out on bail. "One hundred thousand dollars," Jenny said grimly. "I suppose that's the going value of the lives of federal agents today."

Gibbs grimaced. "She'll have her day in court. How are the cleaners doing?"

"They've started. They're projecting a Monday or Tuesday reopening of the building, though that may slip to Wednesday."

"We can endure a little discomfort here in #200. I'd rather know that the main building is 100 per cent safe before we reopen."

"Same here. I've already heard some screams from people about the plants on their desks. All will have to be replaced, since the ammonia will be harsh. I'm sure I'll hear many more screams."

"Can't be helped. Tell them to blame a sunflower."

- - - - -

Tony and Ziva had awoken and gone to Maryland to get more statements from the family in the early afternoon. Gibbs and Jenny were fielding calls from the press on the case (evidently leaked by the family) when Gibbs' thoughts returned to Tim. Gibbs had hoped that by now he would have been able to break away for awhile to go visit Tim and the other agents in the hospital, but that hadn't happened.

After hanging up the phone at one point, Gibbs' cell phone rang.

"_Hey, boss,"_ said Tim. _"I thought I told you to wake me when you came."_

Gibbs frowned. "I haven't been to see you, McGee. I've been tied up here in 200 all day. Did someone tell you that I'd been there?"

"_No…maybe it was Tony or Ziva, then…"_

"Couldn't have been. They're in Maryland interviewing Barkinses."

"_Well, that's weird, then…"_

"What?"

"_When I woke up, there was something on the lamp table by my bed. A couple of little ceramic sunflowers."_

"_Don't touch them!!"_ Gibbs cried, springing to his feet. "I'll be right there!!" He stopped only long enough to grab Abby and another agent, and was out the door.

- - - - -

"This is so cool!" Abby crowed for the fourth time as she waved a gas-detection wand over the ceramic sunflowers in Tim's hospital room. The reading was negative, but that didn't mean they didn't contain other dangers. Carefully she sealed the sunflowers in evidence bags. "Gibbs, you've got to take me out to the field more often. I have a right to have fun like you guys!"

Gibbs rolled his eyes. "I don't think this is much fun for McGee."

Abby immediately looked contrite. "Aw, poor Timmy!" she said, and turned to her bedridden comrade. She elbowed out of the way Agent Carrie Carchedi, who had been spending more time flirting with Tim than helping Gibbs sweep the room. "Need a hug, Timmy?"

"No, he doesn't," said Gibbs. "Carchedi —sweep and photo! Abby—finish bagging!" Seeing Abby and the agent shoot eye daggers at each other, Gibbs was convinced more than ever now that he would never have more than one woman at a time on his team. While tempted to leave his sig with Tim for protection against the women, Gibbs went off in search of hospital security.

He frowned menacingly at the security department head. "You don't have cameras on the floors?"

"No, sir. Well, yes, we do, sir, but they only record five minutes at a time and then are auto-erased. We don't have the budget for anything more than that. The cameras that log on and on are all on the first floor: the entrances and exits, the ER waiting room. That's where we've had the need for a record," said the large man, who looked humbled by the smaller NCIS agent.

Gibbs sighed. "So there's no way of telling who visited my agent's room?"

"I'm sorry, sir."

Gibbs waved a hand and remembered to thank the security head (the budget problems weren't _his_ fault, after all), and went to visit the other two hospitalized agents, after getting assurances from Carchedi that she wouldn't leave Tim alone. "I won't, either," said Abby pointedly. Gibbs rolled his eyes.

Seeing that the other agents were doing reasonably well, and had not had any deliveries of sunflowers, Gibbs returned to Tim's room, where Abby and Carchedi were just finishing. Just in time, too; the doctor wanted to shoo all of them out so she could check on Tim and then have him get some rest. Gibbs phoned Jenny and asked her to organize a security detail for Tim's room, and the three NCISers waited until the first detailee arrived.

Gibbs made Carchedi drive the truck back to building 200. It would give her something to do and, with luck, cut down on the catty remarks she and Abby had been exchanging. Much as he disliked having the center seat, he thought it best that the two not sit next to each other. Abby swiped his swoop cap and pulled it down over her eyes. Crossing her arms over her chest, she sat and sulked.

- - - - -

Ziva and Tony called in that they were bringing in two people for interrogation: John and George Barkins, who were Aunt Peg's grandson and brother. Tony also said that Aunt Peg, with a lot of cheek, was also headed to the Yard to support her kin in their interrogations. Gibbs thanked him for that, and called the O Street gate to have her refused admittance to the Yard. Let her stew; there was no "right" to be allowed on a military base.

Gibbs interrogated both men, separately. John was seen first. He was the nephew of Rose Barkins Donovan, 23, and much more laid back. "My family's done a lot of screwy things," said the scruffy-bearded young man, "but murder is something we like to keep inside the family."

His smile was insolent. Gibbs was barely able to keep his anger in check. Questioning turned up nothing more than an obnoxious person with no certifiable ties to the crime. "You're in law school?" Gibbs asked on a hunch at the end.

John Barkins looked surprised, for once. "Yeah," he said. "Just finished my first year. Top of my class," he added, smugly. "I'm bound for the Navy War College after I graduate."

"Well, keep your nose clean," Gibbs advised mildly. "Neither the bar nor the college look kindly on member applicants with criminal records. Or suspicions of same." Gibbs let him go, looking a little dazed.

Capt. George Barkins (ret.) was different. Three years older than Peg, he wore a neat suit and had the crisp bearing that often goes with career military. "Are you trying to railroad my kid sister, Agent Gibbs?" the captain demanded.

"Only trying to get at the truth, Captain."

"You've already put the one guilty party behind bars; my sorry-excuse-for-a-cousin Jim."

"He wasn't the one who sent a potentially-deadly package to NCIS Headquarters."

"Peg told me what you told her. You practically beat a confession out of her. Or would have, if she wasn't made of the unbreakable Barkins stuff."

A thought occurred to Gibbs. "She's a blood Barkins, then? And not a Barkins by marriage?"

"Yes, she is, on both counts. She was born a Barkins and married a second cousin, also a Barkins."

"What did she tell you about the interrogation?"

"That you had security camera tape from the post office showing her mailing a package, and a close-up of the delivery address as being NCIS."

Tony arose from the back of the room, and waved to catch Gibbs' attention. Gibbs nodded, and Tony spoke. "Who was the package addressed to?"

"No one. There was no name on the package. Some random person in your building opened it, I guess. Or does your mailroom open everything?"

Gibbs kept his face expressionless. "Thank you, Captain. I think that's all we need to ask you now."

"So you'll leave Peg alone now?"

"I can't promise that. And she's out of our hands, at the moment. She's been charged with attempted murder of federal agents, and is out on bail."

The captain sagged. "But she didn't do it," he said. "She _couldn't_ have done it. She's as good as they come."

"Then help us find who did do it."

"If I had any idea at all, I would, Agent Gibbs."

Ziva escorted the captain out and Gibbs gave Tony a questioning look. "What he said reminded me of a teacher I had in high school," said Tony. "Faulty memory. Forgetting key details—like the fact that McGee's name was clearly on the package's address. Fantastic story—the security camera at the post office, with the close-up of the package. My guess is that Aunt Peg is exhibiting senility—and is probably covering it up so well that most of the family doesn't know it."

"I'll see if we can get a psych evaluation. Good work. Why don't you and Ziva run over to the hospital and see McGee?"

Tony grinned. "I'd like that. Any news on those ceramic sunflowers?"

"I've been so tied up I haven't talked to Abby since we got back…" He picked up the phone, and then realized he'd have to hunt for the extension to the lab. It wasn't worth the effort.

They headed for the lab, with Ziva rushing to catch up. "What's the word, Abbs?" Gibbs asked.

She was wearing a lab coat too long for her, and she had rolled up the sleeves. "No poisonous gas this time," she said. "No fingerprints, either. Our mystery visitor wore gloves. And that's a good thing, too, because this was on the surface of the ceramics." She applied a swab to a piece of leather, which immediately crinkled, curled and smoked. "A rare acid," she said. "You _so_ do not want this on your skin. It would start burning and keep going right to the bone."

Tony gulped. "Well, it's good that McGee didn't touch them, then."

Abby stopped in her tracks and stared at him and then fixed her eyes on Gibbs. "Gibbs! The phosgene gave him lesions, and frostbite-like burns. Are we _sure_ that he didn't…?"


	5. Barkinses

**Chapter 5: Barkinses**

- - - - -

Tim was sure he hadn't touched the acid-coated ceramics, but to be on the safe side, he was immediately given precautionary treatment and put under observation. The doctors knew, though, if he had touched the ceramics, their treatment might not do any good. He could wind up losing his hands; even his life.

"Your visit with McGee will have to wait. I want that whole blasted Barkins family questioned!" Gibbs ordered Ziva and Tony. "Everyone, regardless of how old, all the way down to the youngest able to talk! Move it!" He got permission from Jenny to borrow other agents to help in the questioning.

- - - - -

The fourth Barkins family member that Ziva and Tony questioned finally turned up points of interest. This was Eno Barkins; age 51, a construction foreman with a beer gut and a mid-range voice that Gibbs had warned them to listen for. Eno Barkins was frank. "I'm one of the few sane people in my family, I'm sure. Most people won't air their dirty laundry like that, but I'm sick of holding back. I think half the Barkinses are mental, and most of the rest are just mean cusses. As soon as my last kid is out of college and I can afford to quit this job, the wife and I are moving at least 1000 miles away from here. Away from these nuts."

"Do you believe that Jim Barkins, your—"

"Cousin."

"—cousin, is indeed guilty of the murders of his cousins Betty and Lon and his brother, Randy?" asked Ziva.

Eno hesitated briefly. "That's what a court of law determined. I believe in the legal system."

Tony stepped in. "Do you think that Peg, your—"

"Cousin."

"—Of course. Cousin. Do you think she is capable of threatening federal agents?"

Eno appeared to sweat. "Look, I don't know. I shouldn't speculate. I've gotta get back to work." He quickly turned and left, reluctantly taking Tony's business card with him.

"What does he know that he did not tell us?" Ziva murmured.

They headed back to Tony's car, parked around the corner of the building in the visitor's area. Tony had just gotten in the car when his phone rang. "Meet me at the Hooper Burgers on 12th Street in 15 minutes," said a voice, who then hung up.

"Definitely a mid-range voice," said Ziva, who'd heard. Eno, no doubt.

Traffic and a construction detour worked against them, and so it was close to 20 minutes before they reached the Hooper Burgers. "I have a bad feeling about this," said Tony. Three police cars, a fire truck, and an ambulance were in front of the restaurant.

Their NCIS IDs got them through the police tape. "Darndest thing," said the detective in charge to them. "The counter girl reported he was okay when he ordered. Witnesses saw him sit down at a booth and start to eat. Then he started screaming and choking, and he started spitting up blood. Then he keeled over."

Ziva and Tony looked down at the body of John Barkins, the obnoxious law student. "Now, this is a twist," said Tony.

"Agents? Excuse me," said a cop. "There's someone outside who says he was supposed to meet you here? A civilian."

"Bring him just inside the line, but do not let him see the body," said Ziva. "He is a relative of the deceased. We would not want to…traumatize him." She exchanged looks with Tony. After phoning Gibbs and arranging for Autopsy to come pick up John Barkins, Ziva and Tony went out to meet Eno Barkins.

"Sorry I'm late," said the foreman. "Got held up at the last minute at work. What's all the big to-do here?"

"Mr. Barkins—your cousin John, the law student? I'm afraid I have bad news for you. He's dead."

Eno Barkins looked stunned. "But he was just a kid! Is he—?" Barkins tried to peer around them, to see inside.

"Yes, he died in here after starting to eat. The cause of death is unknown, but given your family's problems, we'll call it suspicious for the time being. Did he often eat here?"

"I don't know. He's—he was a jerk. I didn't talk with him unless I had to."

"A little odd, wouldn't you say, that he would be here the same time as you?"

"How should I know? I don't know his schedule."

"Were you planning on meeting him here? Did you come in on time, and slip back out, and pretend to have just arrived?"

"_No!!"_

"I think we would like to ask you more questions at NCIS Headquarters."

- - - - -

It was only noon and the day was already years long. Gibbs needed more coffee, and was about to give himself 10 minutes to go get some when Ziva and Tony came in with Eno Barkins. With a hand, Tony covered the yawn he couldn't stifle. "You want us to go run down more Barkinses, boss?" he asked.

"Not just yet, Tony. Take a short break, but don't go far," said Gibbs, clicking shut his phone. "I was just talking to the detective on duty at the Hooper Burgers scene. He got me a list of all of the employees working there this morning."

"And?"

"One of them is Sadie Barkins. Peg Barkins' granddaughter."

Ziva looked thoughtful. "I remember the genealogy. She would be 16. Is that too young to be a killer?"

"Not in that family," said Tony, grimly.

- - - - -

Gibbs let the other agents continue questioning Barkins, while he let Eno smolder for awhile in Holding. Ziva and Tony he sent off for the long-delayed visit to see Tim; as much for Tim's sake as for theirs.

"I don't get it, Probie," said Tony. "Why are _you_ being targeted?"

"I have no idea," Tim rasped. "I'm not feeling too well, Tony; would you mind doing the detective bit for me?"

"Har har. NCIS has been talking to every Barkins in the state of Maryland, and even a few that escaped to Pennsylvania and D.C. It's as if the Hatfields and the McCoys blended families and still kept feuding."

"The…Hanfields and the McGees?" Ziva asked, confused.

"An old feud. I'll explain it to you later," said Tony. "Explain this to me, Probie, if you can. You hadn't had any contact with any of the Barkinses since Uncle Jim was convicted, have you?"

"No."

"Are you sure? I think every other person in Maryland is a Barkins. Probably your barber, your postman, the lady at the seed exchange…they're all of Barkins blood."

"I doubt it is that high a percentage," said Ziva. "But Tony has a point. You live in Maryland. The Barkinses live in Maryland. Maybe your sunflowers are not connected to Uncle Jim's case at all. Maybe you inadvertently angered a Barkins in some other way, and they are getting back at you now."

Tim shook his head. "You live in Maryland, too, Ziva. Why me and not you?"

"Because everyone loves our little assassin," said Tony, putting his hands on Ziva's shoulders. He almost avoided her attack with her sharp elbow. "Okay, I'll accept that you haven't knowingly had Barkins contact. The chances that you've, _by accident_, angered someone so much that they want to kill you, are remote. So we're back to you having pissed off someone connected with Uncle Jim's case."

"But they didn't try to kill just me. That gas could have killed a number of people at NCIS," Tim argued.

Tony and Ziva met eyes. "No, it was meant for you, we think, McGee," Ziva said slowly. "Abby found that there was a timer in the gas release. It was set for 8 o'clock, when you would have been expected to be home, with your…sunflower gift, and not still at work."

"…Ah." That got Tim's attention off his itching skin and sore throat. "So I need to think and think about who I may have angered in my work on the case."

"I think you're better off getting rest, McGee," Tony said kindly. "We'll do the legwork. But if you do think of anything…" He smiled, but his thoughts were troubled. The lesions on Tim's skin were ugly, and he looked weak.

"Flowers for you, Agent McGee," said a cheerful nurse, bringing in a large vase of gold and brown flowers. She headed for the night table beside Tim's bed.

"What the—??" Tony swept the vase out of her hands and dashed out into the hall with them, then thought better of it, and came back in Tim's room with them. Carefully he set the vase down on the floor of the bathroom, covered the flowers with a trash can liner, and then closed the bathroom door.

"_Who sent those flowers??"_ Tony demanded of the startled nurse. "When did they arrive?? Who signed for them?? _Answer me!!"_

Ziva, meanwhile, had tackled the NCIS guard in the hallway outside Tim's door. She had a knife at his throat. "What do you mean by letting a vase of sunflowers get in Agent McGee's room?!" she demanded.

"I—I'm—I'm sorry, Officer David," the surprised guard stammered. "I don't know one flower from another. All I know are roses, which I get my wife on Valentine's Day."

Tony called Gibbs. "Another potential attack on McGee, boss. Someone sent him a vase of real sunflowers. We don't know who yet. It just happened."

Gibbs groaned. _"Is McGee okay?"_

"Oh, sure. The flowers didn't get within five feet of him."

"_Good. I'll have—"_ He looked around. There was practically no one around. Most members of the other team on the day shift were out in the field. He would have to go to the hospital himself, taking…Abby again, and…he sighed. Agent Carchedi_. "—we'll see you there, shortly. Then we'll need to have you go chase Barkinses again."_

_And when I get back, I just might go over to the main building and volunteer to help with the cleaning, to move it along._ He didn't think he could last a week here in building #200.

- -

The ride to the hospital with Abby and Carchedi was bad enough. Gibbs was extremely relieved to be in Tony and Ziva's company once again. Sending Abby off to deal with the sunflowers, and Carchedi to interrogate hospital personnel about the flower delivery, Gibbs and the others gathered around Tim's bed.

"I don't want you to be worrying, Tim," said Gibbs. "Yes, there have been some weaknesses in security here. But we're going to close them. For one thing, I'll get a second guard, to be inside your room. And every blasted guard will have a picture of a sunflower, so they know what one looks like, for crying out loud."

"What about Eno Barkins, boss?" asked Tony.

Gibbs sighed. "He's sitting in Holding, still. When I or someone have time, he'll be interrogated."

Ziva briefly related to Tim what had happened that day. He was tired, but his mind tried to sort out all the names. Somewhere in there, he knew, there was a clue…


	6. Questions

**Chapter 6: Questions**

- - - - -

Sadie Barkins came into building #200, shuffling and red-eyed. NCIS treated her gently; she was, after all, only 16, and was accompanied by her mother, who looked stern.

"You work at the Hooper Burgers on 12th Street in—"

"Yes," the reply came quickly before Gibbs could finish his sentence. "And before you ask, we're off school today because of a teacher meeting. I can always use the extra hours, so I said I'd work. They always need extra hands when school's off; they get a lot more kids coming in."

_She's prepared,_ Gibbs thought absently. "Does your family…your extended family…often eat there, Sadie?"

"Define 'often'. Some of them come in. I have relatives all over the place, Mr. Gibbs."

"Did you see your cousin John come in today?"

"No, but I wasn't at the register today; I was in the back, making burgers. I didn't have much of a view of the order line. Not that I ever have much of a chance to look, anyway."

"I know Hooper Burgers layouts. The customers can see those of you preparing the sandwiches. Doesn't anyone, maybe a cousin, call out to you, 'Hey, Sadie!'?"

She looked surprised. "Oh, well, yeah; sometimes. Usually it's someone I like. I wave to them. That's all I can get away with, or the boss gets mad."

"Did you like your cousin John?"

Her lips trembled. "When he was younger, he was a lot of fun. Then he went to college, and…I guess you'd say he became full of himself."

"Did he call out to you today?"

Her mother, Carolyn, squeezed her hand. "No," said Sadie, not meeting his eyes. "I didn't know he was there."

"Did you know that your…cousin Eno was coming by, as well?"

"No, although I know he comes by for lunch maybe once a week, since his current job is in the area. I'm in school then, usually."

Gibbs tried a different tack. "What about your grandmother, Peg Barkins?"

A wary look crossed the girl's face. "What about her? I don't think she's ever come by the Hooper Burgers, if that's what you mean."

"Do you get along with her?"

"Well…of course! She's my grandmother. You have to love your grandmother, right?"

Ducky buzzed in Gibbs' earwig, in perfect timing. "Jethro, John Barkins was definitely poisoned. Abby is trying to determine the nature of the poison."

"Thanks, Duck," Gibbs said softly. To Sadie he said, "Your cousin John was poisoned. It must have come from something served to him at the Hooper Burgers."

Sadie's mother stood up. "If you're implying what I think you're implying, Mr. Gibbs, then I think we want a lawyer before answering any other questions, so unless you're charging my daughter with something…"

"Nope. But we may be back in touch, so please stay available." His look was casual. The he asked, as the two Barkinses were about to go out, "Do you believe that Uncle Jim was guilty of the murders?"

Carolyn's look was stony. "May Jim rot in hell for what he did. Murdering bastard. You probably know that one of his victims was my husband, Lon." Ziva escorted them out, grabbing a tissue for Sadie's tears.

- - - - -

Gibbs waited until Ziva returned to the make-shift interrogation room, and then arced an eyebrow.

"Well, we know Sadie's lying about Eno," said Tony. "We told you that two of her co-workers overheard the phone call she made in the late morning, and that she clearly addressed the caller as 'Eno' once or twice and said he should stop by for lunch, since she was working that day."

"What else is she lying about?" Ziva murmured.

- - - - -

While Tony went to the hospital to give Tim photos of all the people they'd questioned, in hopes that it would jog his memory, Gibbs went to the lab to see how Abby was doing. Ziva meanwhile gathered her thoughts; she would be questioning Eno Barkins.

Gibbs sidestepped several pieces of heavy, unused equipment that had been dumped in the lab for storage. No wonder Abby felt confined in this too-small space. He felt sorry for not having thought to bring her a _Caf-Pow!_ Well, he would look the other way if she took longer breaks for the duration of their stay in this building. "Got anything, Abbs?"

"A sense of pity for the people who have to work here, year-round," she answered. "In addition, while identification of the poison on the ceramics and the gassy sunflower are still eluding me, I can tell you something about the live sunflowers delivered to McGee's hospital room."

"I'm all ears."

"Don't be silly, Gibbs. You'd look awfully funny if you were all ears." She gestured with her hands, miming enormous ears. "Now, Agent _Carchedi_; speaking of Dumbo-sized ears—"

"_Abby—"_

"Okay, okay. The flowers tested fine. Nothing in them, or in the pot's soil, or the pot, or the foil wrapper on the pot. Just what you'd expect, since it came here from the florist, right?"

Gibbs relaxed a little. "So this was a psychological threat only, since McGee's already on edge."

"Not entirely. There was one point that was mostly out of the florist's control. That was the card that went along with the flowers." She held up what looked like a standard small card with tongs. "The customer evidently substituted the florist's card with one of their own. This is like a super-paper, with industrial cutting uses. The edges are much, much sharper than a razor blade."

"Gives new meaning to the term 'paper cut'."

"Yes, I already shared that joke with Bert…in spirit, since he's still over in HQ." She glared at Gibbs as if blaming him. Gibbs gave her an apologetic little shrug, and she seemed mollified.

"Any prints?"

"Yes, but none matching any Barkinses. Our culprit must have worn gloves. Don't ask me why that didn't surprise the florist."

"I don't know. We know which florist shop it came from, but we haven't been able to find yet the man who actually did the sale."

"He's probably a Barkins," Abby said lightly, but Gibbs stared at her. "What; am I right, for once?" she asked. But Gibbs only kissed her cheek and then hurried out.

- - - - -

Tim looked over the pictures as Tony, sitting on the edge of the bed, held them up for him. Pleading tiredness, Tim had asked Tony to do that for him.

"Stop," Tim said, as Tony was about to put one picture down. They'd agreed that, on the first pass, Tony wasn't going to cause any influence by putting names to the photos unless Tim asked him to. "Who is that? That teenage girl?"

"Her name is Sadie," said Tony carefully. "Want to know more?"

"Not yet…" Tim stared at the picture, and then snapped his fingers. "She's Aunt Peg's granddaughter. I remember her lying on the couch when I interviewed Peg in her home, back at the time of Uncle Jim's case."

"Go on…"

"I'm trying to remember…yes. Yes! It seemed a little odd at the time, but I couldn't place it. She had an ipod on…"

"And?"

"But I don't think now that it was _turned on._ I could see her face. It looked like she was reacting to what we said."

"She was eavesdropping."

"Yes. I think she was very interested in what Peg and I said. Find out why, Tony."

"I will." Tony's voice turned a little softer. "So, when do they say you're getting out of here?"

"Soon, I hope. As long as the edemas don't get any worse, I shouldn't develop heart failure. Which would be nice."

"Yeah. You'd be no fun at all without a heart, Probie," Tony smiled. He gave Tim's shoulder an affectionate cuff and left.

- - - - -

Finally, Gibbs gave Ziva the go-ahead to interrogate Eno. Gibbs sat at the back of the room and watched.

"You must think I'm you're prime suspect," Eno Barkins chuckled mirthlessly at the start. "But keep looking. I may not like my relatives, but that doesn't mean I'd kill any of them."

"You are retired from the Navy, are you not, Mr. Barkins?"

"Yeah. I was in for 20 years. Almost all of us served in the Navy. The Barkins have Navy service going back to the establishment of the Navy in 1775. It's about the only thing we have in common."

"And you all have gone on to different occupations after getting out."

"I'd say we run the gamut, yeah."

"Do any of you work as florists?"

He thought. "My cousin Harry Thompson-Barkins does, at a shop somewhere near here. I don't know exactly where it is—I've never been there. But he's new at that. I think he's only been there a month or so."

Ziva kept herself from flinching. This was one Barkins member they hadn't gotten to yet. "Mr. Barkins, you invited my partner and I to join you at Hooper Burgers today. Why?"

Eno leaned forward. "Officer David, I didn't want to be overheard. I'm a little afraid of my family. For all I know, they have spies at my construction site."

"Spies? Industrial espionage?"

"No. Spies on me."

"Why is that?"

"Because no one is more convinced that Peg Barkins is guilty of something than I am. That was what I wanted to tell you."

- - - - -

Gibbs let Eno go, and sent an agent to find and bring in Harry Thompson-Barkins. He leaned back with a sigh, and realized he'd never had lunch. Being in an unfamiliar location was also tiring. Something that smelled familiar, and good, made him open his eyes. _Coffee!_ Ziva smiled at him, and he smiled his thanks back at her.

He called Jenny for the latest word on cleaning HQ. The schedule was still projected to be slow, and careful. Just as he clicked his phone shut, it rang.

"_Mr. Gibbs?"_

No question who that was; only one mother-daughter team had failed to latch onto his title. "Yes, Mrs. Barkins?"

"_Mr. Gibbs, I—my daughter and I weren't entirely forthcoming with you, I'm afraid,"_ said Carolyn Barkins. _"We want to tell you more. And…well, do you offer protective custody? Is that what it's called?"_

"Yes, we do. Are you feeling threatened?"

Carolyn peered out the window, through the tiny gap in the curtains. The vase of dead sunflowers was still there on her front porch. It was a chilling sight, considering.

"_Yes. Very much so."_


	7. Sunflower's End

**Chapter 7: Sunflower's End**

- - - - -

While a team was off picking up Carolyn and Sadie Barkins under heavy guard, good news came from Abby: she'd been able to identify the poisons. Gibbs hastily relayed this to the hospital, and shortly thereafter heard back. The Center for Disease Control knew about this poison, rare though it was, and knew how to treat it. Tim could be made more comfortable, and the other two personnel still in the hospital could be treated and discharged shortly.

In addition, cleaning of the main building could pick up speed, although Tuesday would still be the earliest day for reopening. Jenny was being cautious. Gibbs' team only had to endure Friday, however, and then they would be off for the weekend.

It was 4:30 before Carolyn and Sadie arrived, with Carolyn's lawyer trailing behind. "Carolyn and Sadie are in a bit of a jam, Agent Gibbs," said the lawyer, Etta Baich, correctly. "Since it will all come out in court anyway, I've advised them to speak freely with you."

Gibbs nodded. "Ladies…"

"My mother-in-law—Peg—is a brilliant woman, Mr., I'm sorry, _Agent_ Gibbs," said Carolyn. "We live only about half a mile from her, as you probably know. Sadie had been doing errands for her since she was eight or nine, I guess. At first it was just because Peg led a busy life, and then it got to be because she was forgetting little things."

"Sometimes I would go over there and just help her find things," Sadie put in. "She'd have forgotten where she put her reading glasses, her car keys, her appointment book. She would claim she'd cleaned the kitchen, and I'd find it was only half-done. So I would do the rest. Things like that."

"There have always been feuds in the family, according to my Lon," said Carolyn. "He said they were all type 'A' personalities. None would bend. All always wanted to be the center of attention. He found it funny." She grimaced, and then looked sad. "He was the first one killed, you know. I still don't really know why. He must have said something to set Jim off."

"And where does Aunt Peg come in on this?" Gibbs asked gently.

"She was—is—as angry and vengeful as the rest of them. She has her favorites in the family, and there are also people she can't stand."

"Do you think she's capable of murder? Or at least, attempted murder?"

Sadie gripped her mother's hand, and Carolyn closed her other hand over her daughter's. When Carolyn spoke, it was in a hushed voice. "Yes," she said, and Sadie nodded. "In fact, I'm positive she has murdered."

- - - - -

The rest of the story came out in a rush, as if the Barkinses couldn't get it out fast enough. Uncle Jim had been irked by Lon, and they didn't really know why Jim had killed him, other than just being ornery. But then Peg had become involved.

"Grandmother hated Cousin Betty and Uncle Randy," Sadie said in almost a whisper. Gibbs hoped the recording would pick up what she said. "She was always speaking badly of them. Cousin Betty and she had argued about something long ago, and been mad at each other ever since. And Uncle Randy—he was her brother. She couldn't stand his wife, my Aunt Louise. Absolutely hated her."

"She called Louise a gold-digger, and was furious at Randy for marrying her," said Carolyn. "Thought she'd take him for all his money, and maybe the rest of the family's money, too. She died under mysterious circumstances five years ago. Maybe you should look into that, Mr. Gibbs."

"And then Uncle Randy started seeing this new woman around the first of the year. Again, Grandmother said she was no good for him."

"And how do you know all this?" asked Gibbs.

"I heard her," said Sadie. "On the phone. Like I said, I'm at her house a lot. Sometimes I even sleep over, if we've been up late watching a horror film on TV. Grandmother loves those, especially the old ones."

Gibbs raised one eyebrow at that, and went on. "So are you saying that you think your grandmother might have murdered Uncle Randy and Cousin Betty?"

Sadie looked at her mother, and then both looked at the lawyer, who nodded encouragingly.

"Yes," Sadie said firmly, and then repeated it. "Mr. Gibbs, my grandmother gave me…something, I'm not really sure what it was…yesterday. She knew I was going to be working at Hooper Burgers today. She said Cousin Eno was going to stop by, and I should be sure he got it, instead of whatever he ordered."

Gibbs stiffened; despite years of thinking he'd heard it all. Did that older woman really snare her teenage granddaughter into doing her dirty work? "What was it?"

"I—don't know. But I think it was really bad. It was wrapped in one of our Hooper Burgers wax papers, like a burger. And I when I saw the order come up, I substituted it for his egg burger." She started to cry. "I thought it was just a joke. Eno is a little fat, you know, and maybe it was something to convince him to lay off the junk food, and…"

"But it was John who died, not Eno."

"Yes, I don't know how that could have happened!"

"You said earlier that you didn't see John come in, much less Eno…" Gibbs let that sentence dangle, watching the Barkinses. From the corner of his eye he saw Baich, the lawyer, look surprised. _Uh oh…caught._

Carolyn stared at her daughter, and put a hand on her shoulder. "Sadie..?"

Sadie's lips wobbled, and then she started shaking. "All right, all right, I lied! I knew Eno was coming, because he'd called to say he was and wanted to say hi to me. But I called John, who goes to law school nearby, and asked him to come. I was so mad at him. I wanted to get back at him."

Gibbs waited. Relationships between young relatives, particularly of opposite sexes, could be tricky. Had John, drunk, tried to come on to Sadie, and frightened her?

"He was on the wrong side in the family feud," she said coldly. "Didn't understand the importance of hurt feelings. Thought it was all a joke. I couldn't stand his smug attitude any more. So when he called out to me, and waved back, I was ready. With the sandwich from Grandmother."

Gibbs heard something fall in the back of the room; probably Tony dropping something. He didn't look, but went on, despite the dryness in his throat. "You put the tainted sandwich on his tray."

"Yes, but I didn't know it would kill him!" Sadie sobbed. "You've got to believe me, Mr. Gibbs! I wouldn't kill anyone. Except in the line of duty, that is. I'm going into the Navy, just like the rest of my family!"

_Don't count on that,_ Gibbs thought.

Etta Baich looked completely flustered. "Agent Gibbs, my client is a minor, and I honestly had no idea…"

"That's for a judge to decide," said Gibbs. "David, take Ms. Barkins to Holding."

"I insist that she be sent to Juvenile Court as soon as possible!" said Baich.

"We'll arrange for transfer right away," said Gibbs, raising a hand. He had other questions, but this would do for now. She was, after all, young, and had to be treated gently to avoid repercussions.

When the Barkinses, Baich, and Ziva had left, Tony turned a lazy eye toward Gibbs. "Boss, I remember that when Uncle Jim was charged, he admitted to killing Lon, but said he didn't kill Betty or Uncle Randy."

Gibbs considered, and then nodded. "But he didn't implicate Peg."

"Or Sadie, for that matter."

Gibbs shuddered. "I'd hate to think a 16-year-old could do that much killing."

"She would have started at 14. No, my money's on Aunt Peg."

Tony continued. "Eno was convinced that Peg was a killer, and he was scared of her. If Sadie's telling the truth about the sandwich—like, if Peg actually lowered herself to visit a Hooper Burgers and saved a sandwich wrapper—then Eno would have good reason to be scared. Maybe he knows more than he's telling."

Standing and stretching, Gibbs said, "It can wait for tomorrow. I know I want to think about this some more. Go home, or go clubbing, or something, Tony. Refresh your brain cells."

Tony smiled. "I think I'll do just that."

- - - - -

Friday morning found them back in building #200, facing another day in a work area that didn't seem natural. One of the night teams had placed Carolyn Barkins in protective custody, due to the implied threat of the dead sunflower (which, expectedly, had no known fingerprints on it). Sadie Barkins had spent the night in Juvenile Hall lock-up, pending a hearing to be held this morning.

"Why McGee?" Ziva asked, absently twirling a pen. "Why the attacks on him?"

"I don't think we can blame Sadie for those," said Tony. "The poisonous gas…the poison on the ceramics…the razor-edged gift card…those are all pretty sophisticated."

"What's her area of study in school?" Gibbs asked.

"English and drama are her two favorite subjects," said Ziva. "Although she has said she wants to study history in college, prior to getting into NAVOCS."

"Doesn't sound like she has a science background, then," said Gibbs. "Looks like things keep coming back to Aunt Peg. Let's bring her back in for a few more questions."

- - - - -

"Really, Agent Gibbs," Peg Barkins harrumphed. "I do have other things to do with my day than to be at your beck and call."

"I'm sure you do, Ms. Barkins. Agent DiNozzo has a few more questions for you."

"Very well, if I must. Let's get it over with."

Tony smiled, a friendly smile. "Are you still making those thingamajigs, those folk art…things?"

"Crafts? Of course. I enjoy it, and they sell well."

"Do they?" Tony asked, still smiling. "I think that's wonderful. You make them all by yourself? Every step of the way?"

"Oh, definitely."

"Your granddaughter…Sadie, is it? She's over at your house a lot. Does she ever help?"

"No, why on earth would she? She has neither the interest nor the aptitude. Crafts are _art_, Agent DiNozzo. It takes an artist's eye and deft hands."

"I see. Now, back when we were investigating Uncle Jim, you were asked a lot of questions then."

Peg laughed. "I suppose I was, though it seems so long ago now. I hardly remember."

"It was just three months ago."

"If you say so. At least Jim is in prison and will be there for a long, long time. He deserves it."

"Technically, his case hasn't gone to trial yet. He's confessed to killing Lon, which is why he was refused bail. What we haven't figured out yet, is why he would want to kill Betty and Randy."

A cloud went over Peg's face. "He killed my Lon. My son."

"But he said he didn't kill Betty and Randy. Randy was his brother. Jim said he loved him."

"Betty and Randy were both irritating layabouts," Peg said viciously. "Both were drummed out of the Navy—imagine that! In a Barkins! Then they expected the world to provide them with a living. Idle hands."

"Was that a reason to kill them, Ms. Barkins?" Tony asked softly.

"They were so irritating I could no longer stand it," said Peg. "I find I have less patience as I grow older. People should go be irritating in their own homes if they must behave that way. Not come bother me with their problems and their hands open for money and their stupid, stupid endless questions about Jim! That's part of what made this so sweet. Jim actually liked Betty. He was going to lend her money so she could buy a house out of state. Start a new life. Idiot! Like he would ever see that money come back. She'd just go on and on until she drained the family dry."

"You said…questions about Jim?" Tony tried to keep the tension out of his voice.

"Yes, yes, questions," she snapped. "Your Agent McGee, or whatever his name is. He asked too many questions. I lost patience, though I didn't let it show. I was glad when he stopped coming by. Then I got to worrying that he would start thinking more about why on earth Jim would ever kill Randy and Betty. So I knew I had to stop him."

"You sent him the sunflower in the flower pot…and the ceramics with poison…and the dangerous gift card."

She smiled, a chilling gleam in her eye. "It felt good to use my chemical knowledge again, after being retired for five years. But I didn't send him the gift card, or the live sunflowers that went along with it."

"But you know about them."

"Of course. I even lent the materials. But the execution wasn't mine."

"Whose, then?"

"My granddaughter loves me, even though I think she's a little frightened of me, Agent DiNozzo. After all, I did leave the dead sunflowers on their porch. To remind them not to talk. But when I told Sadie about the frostbite-like effects of phosgene and its family, she asked what a serious paper cut would do to affected skin." Her own smile was just as icy.

It took all of Tony's composure to keep from throwing up, right then and there.

- - - - -

Three weeks later, Tim arrived at HQ early one morning, and set chocolates on the desks of his teammates. "What is this?" Ziva asked as she arrived at nearly the same time as Gibbs and Tony.

"Chocolate. Delicious stuff." Tim smiled.

"And why?"

"I'm celebrating," said Tim, and waved his hands to show that they were now bandage-free. The frostbite signs were all gone. "I've been cleared to go back in the field. I wanted you all to share in my joy."

"Good," said Gibbs. "I'll be sure to let you gas the truck for our next call."

"Nice stuff, Probie," said Tony, examining the chocolate bag. "From that Belgian import shop. Thank you!" He hesitated, then with a gleam in him eyes, reached into his desk drawer. "I don't suppose you want any of these…?"

"What are they?" Tim asked with practiced suspicion.

"Candy-coated sunflower seeds."

Before Tim could take revenge, Ziva's clear voice cut through the air as she hung up the phone. "Dead Marine at Anacostia."

"Let's roll," said Gibbs, and threw keys to Tim. "McGee…you know the drill."

"Yes, boss," Tim smiled ruefully. It was good to be back.

- - - - -

On the drive out of the gate, Tim said, "You know, I really still like sunflower seeds…even after all this."

"That is good," said Ziva, "because Tony has filled one of your drawers, to the top, with loose seeds."

"_Tony!"_ Tim squawked, and was about to hit the driver, but Gibbs held him back. Tim settled down. "Salted, or unsalted?" he asked.

"Salted."

"Well, that's okay, then."

None of them paid any attention to the dark green van just inside the gate, for it was partially blocked from view by a soda delivery truck. If you peeled away the soda truck you would see that the lettering on the side of the green van read _Jos. Barkins Landscaping._ One of the workers busy planting was a teenage girl, who was doing community service before her case came up in Juvenile Court. She reached inside the van for a flat of fledgling sunflowers, and smiled.

- END -


End file.
